


we're slow dancing in a burning room

by lovely_ziam



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_ziam/pseuds/lovely_ziam
Summary: He can’t stop thinking of Liam, of a soft smile and crinkly eyes. Calloused fingers threading through Zayn’s as they kiss, because it’s their three year anniversary —at least it should be, if they hadn’t of broken up three months ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of drabbles written for a Lyric Wheel on tumblr a while back, that I decided to put together into a longer one here. :)

Zayn sits cross-legged on the carpet, a thick duvet wrapped around his shoulders and warming his body, juxtaposing the harsh cold of his heart inside his chest. He stares out the window, sad eyes chasing the clouds as blinding sparks of light filter through the chaotic canopy against a faded sunset sky.

There’s a wine bottle glued to his hand, Zayn tipping it to his mouth and letting the sharp liquid sooth the scratchy sob clinging to his throat. It tastes of him, and the thought alone triggers a broken whine from Zayn’s lips. He’s reminded of quiet nights in their flat, both a giggly mess after drinking through several bottles of red because it was Liam’s favourite. It would be all Zayn could taste as he kissed a smile over Liam’s lips — and it’s all he can taste now, alongside the salt pressed over his tongue from a single tear slipping over his skin.

He can’t stop thinking of Liam, of a soft smile and crinkly eyes. Calloused fingers threading through Zayn’s as they kiss, because it’s their three year anniversary —at least it should be, if they hadn’t have broken up three months ago.

Zayn swallows down several more gulps of wine before realising the bottle is empty, a blank laugh sliding from his lips. He stands from the floor to stagger into the kitchen, almost slipping on the duvet he drags behind him.

There are three more bottles of wine in the fridge, Zayn barely having to think as he grabs another of red so that he can feel somewhat closer to Liam through taste. Unscrewing the lid he walks over to the photo frame hung above the sink, an empty sigh breathed from his lips as he stares at the single photo of him and Liam.

He should’ve taken it down by now, but the thought alone makes him want to cry. The photo was snapped at Christmas almost two years ago, taken by Zayn’s mum who was fonding over the two of them with Karen joint at her hip. Zayn is pressing a kiss to Liam’s cheek, the giggly grin shifted over Liam’s lips painting a smudge of laughter lines over his skin, crinkles around squinting eyes. Zayn is laughing against Liam’s cheek, because Karen is holding mistletoe above them while they wear awfully bright Christmas jumpers.

Zayn sighs against the mouth of the bottle, wondering if Liam still has photos of the two of them, if he still drinks Zayn’s favourite wine because it tastes of him — or whether he’s moved on. Found somebody else to come home to at night, to hide beneath the covers while they giggle over a new comic. The thought tugs pathetically at Zayn’s heartstrings, so he begins to wander upstairs to search for the dreadful Christmas jumpers they’re wearing in the photo as a distraction. It takes a while for him to dig through his drawers, mind a little distant at the amount of alcohol in his system — but he eventually gathers the soft material in his hands, a choke catching at his throat. He pulls out Liam’s, the gaudy reds and greens just as he remembers; a reindeer face decorating the front.

Biting over his lip he brings the jumper closer, burying his nose into the material. His eyes flutter shut, the familiar scent of Liam’s cologne filling his senses and triggering another prick of tears over his waterline. It’s like Liam is there with him, Zayn desperately trying to hold onto the image of Liam beside him as he absorbs the lingering fragrant of citrus and spice.

He pulls the jumper over his head, sighing before he’s suddenly grabbing his phone to call Liam. He makes sure to hide his number before calling, bringing the phone to his ear and nervously waiting for the dull ringing tone. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Zayn mumbles to himself, fingers anxiously picking at the loose threads of the jumper, before —

“Hello?” Zayn immediately falls silent, his chest tightening almost painfully as he blinks his eyes shut and listens to Liam’s voice. He feels as if time is frozen, the single word played over and over again in his mind as he clings onto the soft sound.

“Is anybody there?” Liam asks moments later, sounding confused on the other end.

Zayn considers hanging up, pretending that he never called — but instead he mumbles out a shy “Hey…It’s me.”

“Zayn?”

Zayn nods, eyes squeezed shut at the lump in his throat as he hears Liam say his name.

“Zayn, you there?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says quietly, pinching at his thigh. “M’ here.”

It’s silent for a moment, Zayn sighing into the phone. He wants to hear more, to hear the soft tone of Liam’s deep voice; but he can’t think of the words to say. His head is spinning, thoughts muddled and twisted as he clutches the phone to his ear.

“Are you okay?” Liam questions from the other end, voice slightly concerned and Zayn wants to cry. It’s been so long since he’s heard Liam worry over him, and he can almost picture the wrinkled frown creasing Liam’s flawless skin.

“M’ wearing your Christmas jumper,” Zayn tells him, giggling into the sleeve as he looks down the reindeer printed over the front.

“What?” Liam asks, confused. “Are you drunk, babe?”

Zayn freezes, swallowing at the ‘babe’ falling from Liam’s lips.

“No,” Zayn whines, before giggling again. “Well, yes, but — I’m also wearing your Christmas jumper. The one your mum got.”

“Oh, right,” Liam says. “Why’ve you been drinking? Are you out?”

Zayn shakes his head, immediately stopping as his vision blurs, the room becoming a kaleidoscope of clashing colours. He takes another swig from the wine bottle, sighing. 

“I’m not out,” he pouts. “I just miss you.”

There’s more silence, Zayn placing down the bottle before he lies back onto the carpet.The sky is darker now, a crimson red fading closely to night. A rich moon is beginning to appear, another memory triggered in Zayn’s mind of the times him and Liam would lie beneath a cluster of burning bright stars.

“It’s our anniversary,” he adds quietly, chewing over his bottom lip.

He thinks he hears Liam sigh on the other end, voice muffled as he whispers “I know, Zayn.”

“C’n I tell you something?” Zayn asks, running a hand through his hair.

He wishes it was Liam’s — craving for soft fingertips to coax gentle touches over his scalp, over his skin.

“Of course,” Liam tells him, although his voice is a little unsure.

“I still love you,” he whispers, words strangled in his throat. “I’ve been a mess since you left, Li, and I — I’ve been holding on so tight to the thought of you coming back, but you haven’t come back.” 

Zayn chokes on a sob, hiccuping into the phone.

“Don’t cry,” Liam whispers, pleading. “You’re drunk, sweetheart. I think we should talk about this when you’re sober.”

Zayn pushes up from the floor so that he’s sitting, frowning as tears cling to his flushed cheeks.“I miss you all the time,” he whimpers, frustrated. “Drunk or not, Liam, I still love you.” 

He holds hope to every inch of his body as he waits impatiently to the silence between them, his heart longing for Liam to return his words.

“I…” Liam says, tone doubtful. “I’ve got to go, Zayn.”

The line disconnects before Zayn can say anything else, the disappointment unbearable as he throws his phone at the ground and curls his arms around his knees, whimpering.

He sobs into his lap, throat dry and heart physically aching in his chest at the thought of Liam no longer wanting him. No longer seeing a bright smile and fond eyes, no longer feeling the warmth of strong arms wrapped around his wiry frame.It’s all he wants right now — to have the comfort of Liam’s body up against his, to feel kisses brushed lazily over his skin. To run fingertips along the laughter lines painting Liam’s skin when he smiles fondly, card needy hands through soft hair.

Zayn eventually falls asleep on the floor after drinking another half of the wine, Liam’s jumper warming his broken chest.

He wakes an hour later, an abrupt knocking on the door dragging his eyes open. He squints into the darkness of the room, flipping on a lamp before he hears the knocking again, everything slightly dizzying.

“M’ coming!” He calls, running a hand through his hair with confusion crumpling his thoughts as he pulls a blanket around his shoulders and takes a moment to compose his drunk self before pacing out of the living room.

He stumbles towards the door, mouth falling open and a startled breath tumbling from his lips as he opens it to brown eyes.

Zayn blinks at Liam opposite him, his jaw loose as his mouth hangs open in surprise. He stumbles against the doorframe; suddenly wondering if Liam is actually standing there or whether the alcohol in his bloodstream is creating illusions in his mind.

Liam reaches out to steady Zayn as he wavers on his feet, a firm hand catching his waist. Zayn swallows the whine almost spilling from his lips; Liam’s hands on his body something that he’s missed terribly over the past three months. 

“What’re you doing here?” Zayn asks, frowning as he hears the languid tone of his voice, the way each word stumbles awkwardly from his lips.

“I don’t know,” Liam admits softly, catching his bottom lip with his teeth. “I just — I needed to see you.”

Zayn staggers forward and wraps his arms around Liam’s neck, letting out a quiet cry as he feels Liam hold him. He buries his face into Liam’s shoulder, fingers clinging to the material of Liam’s shirt. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, brushing a watery smile over Liam’s neck. 

He begins to cry softly, stuttering out a choke of laughter as Liam soothes calming touches over his spine and hushes him with delicate whispers. 

“I know we said we should break up so that we could work on ourselves and so I could focus on my career, but I don’t want that anymore,” he mumbles, pulling away ever so slightly so that he’s peering up at Liam’s conflicted face. 

“I want to be boyfriends again,” he pouts. 

Liam smiles and shakes his head fondly.

“We’ll talk about this in the mornin’, okay?” 

Zayn’s bottom lip juts out further, but he nods anyway.

“Will you stay?” He asks shyly, Liam’s shirt still bundled in his hands. 

Liam nods, guiding Zayn inside with a gentle hand placed to the small of his back. 

Zayn giggles as he almost falls, tripping over his own feet and grabbing onto Liam’s bicep for support. He’d forgotten how muscular Liam was, slightly confused but also a little turned on as he grips Liam’s arm. 

“Shit, Zayn,” Liam says disapprovingly, shaking his head as he pulls him into his side. “How much have you had to drink?

Zayn falls back onto the sofa, wrapping his fingers around Liam’s wrist to try and pull him down, too. He doesn’t — a weak smile tracing his lips as he sits on the coffee table in front of the sofa, instead. 

“Two,” Zayn tells him, grinning. 

“Two what?” Liam asks, frowning at the giggle spilling from Zayn’s lips.

“Wine,” Zayn answers simply, smiling. “Red wine. S’ horrible, Leeyum.”

“Why did you drink it then? You’ve always hated red.”

Zayn looks at Liam like he’s stupid, his brows furrowing. “Because it’s your favourite. It tasted like you.”

Zayn can’t decipher the expression that slides over Liam’s face, his vision blurry as the room spins.

He hears the soft sigh spilling from Liam’s lips, though. 

“C’mon, sunshine — let’s get you to bed.”

“That’s a little forward, Liam,” Zayn hiccups, grinning. “We haven’t even been on a date.”

Liam rolls his eyes, smiling in amusement.

“You and I both know we didn’t wait until the first date,” he retorts, seeming to regret the words falling from his lips as soon as they’ve slipped out.

Zayn doesn’t notice, he just giggles into his palm before reaching up to Liam with outstretched arms. “Carry me?” 

He yawns, mind elsewhere as Liam reluctantly hoists him from the sofa and carries him through their old apartment, towards the bathroom. Zayn mumbles something inaudible as Liam places him on the sink counter, wrapping his legs around Liam’s waist and pulling him closer in between his thighs. 

Liam furrows his brow but stays, reaching past Zayn to take a toothbrush from the cup holder beside the sink. 

Zayn watches with hooded lids as Liam passes him the toothbrush and tells him to brush his teeth. He follows Liam’s instructions, unable to take his eyes away from the bubblegum pink of his lips.

He desperately wants to lean down and kiss him, to tangle his fingers in a fistful of hair as he feels Liam spill needy kisses over his lips. 

“Okay, spit, babe,” Liam tells him, taking the toothbrush from Zayn’s hand. 

Zayn is about to make a sarcastic remark about Liam’s words but he feels his chest heave, and throws up into the sink instead, groaning. Everything is spinning, every limb feeling disconnected to his body as he grabs ahold of Liam.

“It’s okay,” Liam soothes with gentle words, rubbing a hand over Zayn’s back. 

His fingertips are so wonderfully delicate over each vertebrae of Zayn’s spine that he begins to cry again, sobbing as he’s sick into the sink for a second time. 

Liam hushes him with soft whispers, reaching for a flannel. He runs it under the tap before brushing it over Zayn’s chin, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. 

“I’m sorry,” Zayn mumbles over a hiccup, curling his fingers around Liam’s collar. 

Liam sighs, pressing a quiet kiss to Zayn’s temple. 

His mind is blurry, but Zayn manages to cling onto the feel of Liam’s lips against his skin, the softness of his touch. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Liam tells him, cradling Zayn’s cheek with a careful hand. “It happens, Zayn.”

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” Zayn whispers, smiling feebly. 

Liam doesn’t reply, a half-smile at his lips as he encourages Zayn to brush his teeth again.

“Bed, okay?” He says softly, pulling Zayn down from the counter. “You need some rest, sweetheart.”

Zayn threads his fingers through Liam’s, hooking his chin over Liam’s shoulder as they walk through into the bedroom. 

“Love it when you call me that,” he mutters quietly, crawling into bed and frowning when Liam hovers at the edge, reaching to turn the light out. 

“You’re not going to sleep with me?” He asks, confused.

“I should probably —”

“Please?” Zayn whispers, patting the bed beside him as he shuffles beneath the covers. 

He feels sleepy as soon as he lays his head onto the pillow, a pout brushing his lips as he squints at Liam’s figure in the darkness. 

“Please, I just want —”

“Okay,” Liam says, kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed beside Zayn. “Just. We need to talk about all of this in the morning.”

Zayn nods, eyelids fluttering shut. He reaches for Liam, pulling him closer to him as he curls into his side. 

“I love you, Leeyum,” he whispers, before sleep pulls him under.

  
++

  
There’s an uncomfortable ache pressing over his head as soon as his eyes flutter open and light temporarily blinds him. 

He squints into the fuzziness of the room, trying to remember what happened last night until —

“Morning.”

Zayn rolls to his right, eyes immediately widening at Liam sitting beside him. 

He bites over his bottom lip, internally groaning as he remembers the drunken phone call and his pathetic mumbling to Liam about the bloody Christmas jumper.

A blush crawls along his cheekbones, Zayn pulling the duvet over his head as more memories of last night scatter over his mind. 

There’s a foul taste lingering over his tongue, an ache in his belly as he sits up. 

He eventually shifts his eyes to Liam, shoulders lowering because last night he didn’t even take the time to notice how beautiful Liam is. His hair is longer, thicker at the sides. He somehow looks more muscular, his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders — and Zayn is pretty sure there’s a new tattoo on his arm, alongside his favourite of the wispy feather inked to his skin.

“How’re you feeling?” Liam whispers, crossing his legs beside Zayn, his head cocked to one side. 

“Like hell,” he moans a little, sighing. 

They’re silent for a moment, the oxygen trapped in Zayn’s throat as he looks at Liam. 

“I’m so sorry,” he winces, chewing over his bottom lip. “Last night — I was way too forward, that’s. Well; you know how I am when I’m drunk.”

Liam nods, a tiny smile trickling to his lips.

“Did you, um. Did you mean it? What you said?”

Zayn licks over his lips, questioning eyes peering at Liam. 

“Which bit?”

Liam looks down, fiddling with the sheets pulled over the mattress. 

“That you, you still love me. And that you want to…you told me that you ‘want us to be boyfriends again.’”

Zayn groans, scratching at the back of his neck. “I said that?”

He watches as disappointment filters over Liam’s expression, a sigh breathed through his lips. 

“You didn’t mean it?”

Zayn’s eyes widen and he reaches across the bed to grip Liam’s hand with long fingers. 

“No, I meant it,” he whispers, shying his thumb over Liam’s knuckles. “I just, I can’t believe I put it like that.”

Liam laughs softly, eyes crinkled around the edges. Zayn almost whimpers; he’s missed the laughter lines painted over Liam’s skin, missed the sound of his laugh.

“C’n you, like — tell me what you’re thinking?” He asks Liam, looking up nervously. 

Liam exhales a sigh, his smile faltering.

“I don’t what any of this means, but. I just, the thought of you drinking by yourself made me feel like shit, y’ know?” He tells him, Zayn keeping quiet as he listens to the honesty spilling from Liam’s lips. “I had to come here to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, and I. I liked — I don’t know; taking care of you, last night. I couldn’t even think about somebody else doing it, making sure you were okay.”

A soft smile shifts over Zayn’s lips, eyes downcast to the mattress. 

“I wanted to be the one to do it,” Liam adds, voice a fragile whisper. “And I — well, seeing you laughing last night has been the highlight of the last three months.”

Zayn looks up, unable to stop smiling.

“Um, and I can’t really think about anything else apart from that I really want to kiss you.”

“Do it,” Zayn exhales, a breathless gasp parting his lips.

Liam nudges closer, cautious eyes tracing Zayn’s as he cups both of Zayn’s cheeks with the palms of his hands.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” He whispers, licking over his lips. “We broke up for a reason, to —”

“I don’t care,” Zayn mumbles. “These three months have been torture, Liam.”

Liam smiles slightly, so close that Zayn can feel the warmth of his breath over his lips.

“They were torture for me, too,” he says softly, brushing his thumbs over Zayn’s cheekbones. “The worst, sweetheart.”

Zayn doesn’t need to hear anymore; he leans forward to kiss Liam, softly. He sighs, relaxing into Liam’s touch as he feels a familiar spark of electricity wiring every nerve in his body, a giggle spilling from his lips as Liam tilts Zayn’s chin. 

He feels a gentle tongue coaxing deeper kisses into his mouth, eyes closed as he presses into Liam’s lap. He tangles arms around Liam’s neck, keeping him firmly against his body in case he decides to move, or leave. 

“I love you,” he whispers quietly, barely audible as he pulls away for a moment — studying Liam’s crinkly eyes.

Liam smiles, so fond that Zayn keeps mumbling fumbled kisses over his skin.

“I love you, too,” he tells Zayn softly, giggling as Zayn’s lips trace his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “More than anything, babe.”

Zayn takes several moments to memorise the happiness laced to Liam’s expression, the grin he’s agonisingly missed now right in front of him. He nudges closer, breathing the three words over Liam’s lips once more before they kiss — both smiling amongst the desperation stained to their minds.


End file.
